Peter struggled with this new idea. It raised in him a bitter confusion. His calm devotion was shaken and stirred. Above it triumphed a sense of loss, an instinct to grasp at something threatened.
"You are pledged?" he abruptly asked.
"Yes, Peter." It came from her like a confession.
The idea was now being driven into his brain. He looked at Lady Mary as he had not looked before. She sat back in her chair, turning aside from him. With opened eyes, he saw now the beauty of a woman snatched away. He leant towards her, uttering one hungry syllable:
"Who?"
It was the first time Peter's voice had challenged her. The adoration had gone out of it. It was hard.
"Does it matter?" she protested.
"It is a secret, then?" he coldly asked.
"No; I have promised to marry Lord Wenderby."
"Lord Wenderby," he echoed.